


31. Gang bang

by It has Teeth (Jensee)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [24]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Bukkake, Canon Trans Character, Creampie, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Oral Sex, Other, Pictures, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, Video, Xeno, Xenophilia, its not a super good time, monster cock, unclear whether Cecil is being fucked live on air or just recorded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jensee/pseuds/It%20has%20Teeth
Summary: What most people forget about Cecil Kanagawa, is that he's a genius.What Cecil Kanagawa forgets the most about himself, is that he's a dumbass.When those two things intersect and Cecil finds himself trapped under one of his bioengineering prowess, a growling cameraman, there's no telling what might happen. Only that it'll be prime time tv.





	31. Gang bang

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess you guys, but at least here is the last installation of kinktober 2019. See you next year!

What most people seem to forget about Cecil is that he’s a genius. Sure he has a pretty face, a smile to knock out any competition, and a sense of showmanship that routinely leaves the rest of Hyperion City’s entertainment green in the face, but that’s not _ all _ he is.

He’s also a genius, one that constantly comes up with his own design and concepts in both tv reality shows and bioengineering feats.

The cameramen, are, dare he say, the jewel of his collection. They come in several versions, first engineered with a strand of big martian attack dogs, then from a antique strand of wolf DNA, then sewer rabbits, marsupial rexes, olympus hyena-outang… and so on until the latest version, developed with the genetic model of gorillas: able to scope with more precision, to calculate a shot on their own and to calibrate an angle, able to keep a smooth shot even when running, to analyze a situation with a fair amount of precision so they can choose to either let it play out, or amp the drama a bit.

Cecil loves to play with his big, oversized puppies in their pen, before or after a show, and he’s learned not to take it personally when one big, overeager puppers jumps him out of unbridled enthousiasm.

“Aww, Tatch, yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Only, this feels like more than just the usual over-eager puppy. Cecil tries to push one of the first version of his cameramen - a big hulking thing shaped like a nightmarish dog - away from him. It growls in his face, wide toothy mouth curling in a show of power.

“Tatch!”

The dog moves and Cecil can feel something big and hot rub against his shirt.

Oh.

Cecil never bothered to have his pups neuterized. After all, the added aggressivity is only a bonus for his shows.

He didn’t quite expect it to come back to bite him in the ass quite like that.

“Alright boy,” he tries to say while gently pushing one big paw away. “I’m sure you can do that without- ah!”

The pup snaps at his weak escape attempt and puts a big paw on his chest.

Maybe Cecil underestimated the intelligence of his own creations. Hopefully they have enough of it that he won’t be ripped to shred.

A saliva coated mouth find its way under his shirt, and he yelps at the cold feeling. The dog was heavy, and much bigger than Cecil, trying to push his head away did not seem to have any effect.

Tatch seems to find the barrier of Cecil’s short annoying, its attempts to lap at the skin stopped short by the strip of fabric. It growls and gnaws at it and almost immediately its teeth catch the fabric. Cecil hold his breath when he feels those huge, sharp teeth rest against the fragile skin of his stomach. And with a snarl, the beast tears the garment to pieces.

“Oh dear,” mutters Cecil. Cold saliva falls on his panty, soaking them through pretty much instantly.

Cecil is quick to regret having implemented some kind of intelligence to the beast's system, because it obviously learned from its earlier experience and rips the last barrier to his dignity to shreds.

“_Oh my stars_.” Cecil utters with a slight tremor in his voice.

He tries once again to push away the monster and crawl away, hoping against all hope he can still manage to escape whatever this is. But before he can even scramble back to his feet, Cecil headbutts into another one of his cameramen, looking at him curiously, lense emitting a low buzz as it takes in the scene of Cecil’s mad scramble. Calmly, it angles its head and its shutter snaps open and close, taking in Cecil’s wide-eyed expression.

_Oh_, Cecil thinks faintly, _I guess this would make for pretty good holovision_.

He yelps when he feels a long, rough tongue lick his ass, quickly finding his taint and rubbing it over. Before he can come back to himself and manage an escape, a paw settles heavily down on his ankles and he stumbles back down on all fours, his ass exposed to the hungry beast behind him.

He can hear the whirs and clicks of over a dozen cameras taking stock of the action, and he has the time to reflects that his experience, however it ends, will at least make him even more famous than he already is.

Then he feels the big, rough tongue explore more of his body, and a little whimper escapes him when it finds his labia. There's nowhere to go so he can only suffer through his hole being slowly worked over by a rough tongue. Soon Tatch seems to realize what it has found and plunge its organ right into the pussy in front of it.

Cecil yelps and tries to struggle, to get away from the beast and the sensation, but no luck. His struggling only serves to spur some of the cameramen closer, their heads cocked and their camera whirring softly as he automatically direct his pleading expression towards them. The tongue inside him reaches deeper and he can’t help but arch into the sensation, mortified to find this actually feels maddeningly good.

Cassandra will never let him hear the end of this.

Tatch seems to get bored of having only a tongue spearing Cecil open, and it grunts as it takes it out roughly, cause a surprised cry from Cecil as it strokes his clit on the way out. He doesn’t dare be relieved, as he has no doubt of what is sure to follow.

Sure enough, the beast behind him grunts and Cecil feels it rut forward, his weight settling against his bent back at two huge paws stomp on either side of his head.

There’s nothing else to be done, so Cecil braces himself against the impact, and has to gasp when he feels an enormous cock jut against his ass, too imprecise to find any entrance. He has a moment of hope: maybe the monster behind him won’t be able to fuck him and just rut against him until it finds release. If he manages to-

The head of the huge cock suddenly pushes farther enough to settle at his vagina’s entrance and Cecil doesn’t have the time to scream before the beast pistons its hips roughly.

It’s big, too big, and one moment Cecil’s mouth opens on a silent scream as he suddenly feels himself being stretched violently. It’s painful, and altogether too much, and he has the horrifying thought that the beast will tear his hole, make him a bloody, broken mess. Then Tacht lets out a roar and starts to actually fuck into him.

The dick fucking into him brings about an horrifying mix of pain of pleasure: it’s much too big not to nail Cecil’s most sensitive spots every time, but it hurts going in, and with every thrust, it seems the beast is pushing further in him, stretching him to what seems, every time, like the maximum his poor pussy can go. And yet, every time, it pushes deeper and defies Cecil’s expectations, until he starts to worry, even through the hazy fog the intense pleasure is putting him under, that the beast might actually rip him apart with his dick.

Cecil can feel himself start to panic at the thought, in a corner of his brain that isn’t drowning in endorphins. At this point, he is distantly aware that he’s screaming himself hoarse, not quite knowing if it’s from pain or pleasure, his hips only held up by the hulking cock pounding him.

Then, with relief, he feels the warmth of another body slapping against his ass as Tatch _ finally _ bottoms out, embedded so deep in Cecil’s body he’s certain that if he had the strength to check, he would find himself bulging with its humongous dick. Then, and only then does he feel his own body start to actually accommodate the monster violating him, and reward him with waves after waves of overwhelming pleasure, sending him into a drawn-out orgasm.

Tatch's pistonning hips don’t stop, though, and Cecil can only pant and moan as the unrelenting pleasure becomes borderline painful, sending him into another orgasm.

At this point, he is barely aware of the other cameramen around them, only feeling them as warm walls surrounding him, and the source of a constant buzz he can barely hear over the rush of his blood.

Cecil has lost track of time, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been too long when he can hear a grunt and Tatch buries its cock deep in him and start to come. It feels weird, colder and more liquid than what Cecil has ever experienced. Tatch’s hips bucks a few more time into his hole and then takes a tortuously long time pulling out, ripping a worned out moan from Cecil as its cock rubs every inch of his sensitive insides.

The cameraman lets out a grunt and after one final lick over Cecil’s abused hole, seems to get disinterested in him. It’s very tempting to simply let himself fall to the ground and pass out there, but Cecil probably needs to get cleaned up, and staying in the cameramen’s pen is not exactly safe, especially now.

Blearily, he opens his eyes, trying to feebly push on his arms to hoist himself up and leave this place.

There are a dozen cameramen pointing their lenses at him, mechanical eyes whirring and buzzing as they concentrate on his bruising, naked body. They almost completely encircle him, unmoving for the moment, but Cecil can see their muscles twitching - different models all waiting for the same thing.

For dramatisation, something that will captivate the public’s attention, charm them and make for the most entertaining emission on modern television.

_Action_.

In his state, it takes Cecil a few seconds to realize that, right then, he’s not providing any.

He yells when one of the more humanoïd cameraman launches itself at him, clawed fingers closing around his thigh as he tries to escape. Cecil tries to yell and struggle, curses at his invention, but that’s not what sells the most in this industry.

What sells the most, as the cameramen probably just discovered from the streaming rating his brutal fucking must just have revealed, is sex.

Cecil’s thighs are summarily pulled apart, and then he can feel another dick penetrating him, burning at it bottoms out in one fell swoop.

He swears, and it burns as the inexperienced creature begins to thrust in and out, his tired body soon reacting again.

This cameraman is smaller than Tatch, but just as Cecil thinks he might have a chance to get away, his arms are pinned by large hands from two other humanoid monsters.

“You- listen to me!” he tries, but he’s taught them too well because they don’t seem to care as he tries to protest and struggle. No one wants to leave the star of their show to wander.

A wayward thrust ramms the cock inside on him against a sweet spot and he can’t suppress the moan opening his mouth wide.

The creatures are quick to react, and thick fingers are pushed into his mouth, testing the give of his cheeks, the wet plushness of his tongue. Cecil tries to bit but the monsters don’t seem to care, holding his mouth open easily, and he knows exactly what conclusion they’re reaching.

He has more than one hole to fuck.

And sure enough, despite his attempt to bit off the fingers, the monsters manage to pry his mouth open wide, and a big, spongy cock head is pressed between his lips, pushing relentlessly until he chokes on it. They don’t care, though, of course they don’t: why would they, the more Cecil struggle, the higher the rates will go for the video, so of course this is what his cameramen are starving for.

It’s a struggle. The cock in his throat is deep enough that he can’t even close his mouth around it, and he can only breathe sporadically, with the uneven rhythm of the thrust. His pussy is being filled to the brim, over and over again, and he feels himself entering some kind of second state, where his brain shuts off almost entirely, only relying messages of pain and pleasure in a never-ending loop. The cameraman fucking his mouth finishes inside of it with a grunt, only to be replaced by another, and while he gags on a mouthful of semen, the dick inside his other hole spruts its load as well, leaving him dripping when it roughly pulls out.

It goes on and on like this, a blur of being fucked, over and over, without respite, every jolt of his body saluted by the crackling sound of flashes. At some point, as one of the monsters (the third, fourth one?) leaves his pussy after painting it with come, he feels curious fingers finding their way to his asshole. His brain flares up with panic and he tries to struggle as another of his holes is violated, but there’s nothing he can do to protect himself from the monster and an hungry lense is shoved in front of his face as he cries when the creatures manages to spear both his pussy and his asshole, while a third one is spilling another load directly down his throat. He feels reduced to a simple toy, a mere collection of holes to fuck into, to breed and stuff full, and he can only fall into a kind of woozy delirium, pliant and open, a pretty, docile little toy. It’s ironic, in a way, the master becoming the pet and the pets utterly, completely destroying every inch of his authority over them. Will he ever be more than their bitch now? Will he be able to do any show without the cameramen constantly seeking for an opening, an occasion to bring him to his knees and breed him within an inch of his life?

Should he let them, if it’s good enough television?

He’s pumped full of cum over and over again, until he wonders if he’s going to drown in it, if he’s going to be trapped forever as his pets’ bitch until eventually his body gives up the fight and declares it better be dead than abused forever. He tries to count the cameramen using him, to remember how many of them there are in the pen, but he can barely process the mouvements of dicks penetrating him from every side, rocking him like a violent tide, and he numbers he can think of make no sense.

As if this wasn't enough humiliation, Cecil can't even pretend that, on some level, he doesn't love it. His and his legs hurt from being pulled, manipulated in every direction, and he aches everywhere he's being fucked senseless, but, at the same time, his brain is drowning in an overload of pleasure signal, and he gaps through several orgasms, his holes contracting around the dicks fucking him, encouraging the cameramen to fuck harder, deeper into him, to pull moans and helpless tremors out of him, all of it carefully collected by their shining lenses. After a while, Cecil almost forgets where he is, what he's doing. Forgets this isn't a particularly intense orgy, and finds himself seeking out more bodies to pull against his, to serve and please. He finds himself sucking eagerly on dick before they're rammed down his throat; finding purchase between legs with his hands, no more trying to escape but to offer more of himself. He feasts on the few wet vagina he is presented with, sucking and drinking to quench a deep, gnawing hunger the rough fucking is bringing to the surface.

Eventually, it ends.

At this point, Cecil’s consciousness is a tenuous, flighty thing, and it takes him several minutes to realize nothing holding him down anymore, nothing is filling him to the brim and grunting as it penetrates him and savoures the show. He can barely move, but slowly, inch by inch, he crawls towards the door, half climbing over some sleeping, sated cameramen as he does so, wondering when one of them will be awaken by his passage and decide they're not done with their fucktoy.

But he goes on, surprising unhindered by the pack of drowsy cameramen, some of whom are braking shineless camera lenses his way, and keeps crawling towards the door. The distance never seems to be the same every time he blinks the blurriness out of his eyes, and he can only hope this is the illusion and not the fact that he's moving towards it, tortuous inches after tortuous inches.

He doesn’t quite know how he makes it out, only that at some point when he blinks, it’s to find himself on the other side of the pen's door.

He aches, and he can feel various fluids running down his body, escaping from his mouth, his pussy and his asshole, slowly sliding down his lips and his chest, coating his legs and his hands.

He's filthy, but safe, for now.

_ I hope it makes for a good video _

And then, everything goes blissfully dark.

**Author's Note:**

> just to clarify, Cecil is passed out, not dead, but I didn't have the energy to write another line of this.
> 
> lots of love, Cyd
> 
> UPDATE: Nov. 18th 2019, just did the catch up edit and honestly this makes me want to write some kind of continuation, either for cameramen to be unleashed on some other characters, or for Cecil to have some kind of repeat experience... or even to suffer through unexpected consequence...? This isn't a given, but if you have a specific idea/request, don't hesitate to drop a comment below u.u  
OTHER UPDATE (Dec 19th 2019) If you read this to the end, I'm gonna assume you like crack ships, and dark nsfw fics :x I do too! and I have very few people to share it with! So I made a tpp server specifically for nsfw and dark nsfw for the Penumbra. If you're interested, you can send me a message through discord (-> oneuncicornaway #7742), or twitter (@thepanhornicorn). twitter is a locked account, but I accept anyone as long as you're over 18
> 
> Love, Cyd o/


End file.
